Dreammaker
by WildwingSuz
Summary: Of course they would have to go on a case right before their wedding.


Author's Notes: The amusement park in this story is based on the real Lake Shawnee Amusement Park in West Virginia, and parts of the description are the ruins of Pripyat—near Chernobyl—in the Ukraine as well as from random photos found in a Google search for "abandoned amusement parks". (I was shocked at how many there are.)

Thanks much to Marissa P. for her explanations of the FBI hierarchy, which really helped.

The fourth, and final, installment in the Deals and Dreams series (Dealbreaker, Dreambreaker, Dealmaker, Dreammaker).

* * *

 **IMPORTANT:** You must have read my story _The Invasion_ first to get the ending of this one as it's a tie-in.

Thanks again so very much to Mimic117, who makes sense out of my ramblings

 **Dreammaker  
** Rated R  
Suzanne L. Feld

 **I**

"Seriously, sir, a haunted amusement park? Who are we, Scooby and Shaggy?"

"Speak for yourself, dude. I'm the big blonde guy and I'm doing Daphne."

"Figures you can remember the _girl's_ name."

"'And I would have gotten away with it if not for those meddling kids!'"

"Okay, enough, you two," Scully said, glaring up at the young men. "This is a real assignment, so stop screwing around."

The younger of the two agents, Richard Weymouth, held up the case file which was open in his hands. "But seriously, Agent Scully, uh, sir, we—"

His partner, Dontelle Lavelle, nodded. Both agents were standing in front of Dana's desk in the X-Files' basement office. "Yeah, I mean, ghosts _again?_ "

"What is it that you two think the X-Files investigates?" Mulder came out from the other half of the basement office and walked over to lean back against the file cabinets with his arms folded. "This is exactly what we're here to do. If it's simple, you figure it out and get a gold star on your paper. If it really is something unusual, it could be more of a challenge than you suspect."

This was Weymouth and Lavelle's second case on the X-Files, though they weren't with the division permanently. Skinner wanted to see how many cases there would be before assigning more agents to the department. Mulder had gone with them on the first one, which turned out to be a purely corporeal poisoner rather than vengeful ghosts killing old people in a retirement home. Though Mulder knew that many of their co-workers looked down on them, he was surprised that two spanking-new agents not long out of the Academy would dare talk back like this. Still, he knew that Scully could handle them so he didn't say anything else at the moment.

"Agent Mulder is right. I've made your travel arrangements and your tickets will be ready at Dulles, so requisition a car and be on your way. I expect a report at the end of the day, Agents." Scully turned to the computer, effectively dismissing them.

"Agent Scully, ah, sir." Agent Lavelle leaned over, putting his hands on the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk. "If word gets out that we've been sent on a case about some supernatural crap again—"

She turned back from the monitor and glared up at him. "One more word and I will write you up for insubordination," she said in a cold, clipped tone. " _Do_ you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Weymouth said sullenly, and turned away. He snapped the grey manila case file shut and stomped out of the office, Lavelle scrambling to catch up.

Mulder was quite impressed with how she handled them; Dana was turning out to be quite a good SAC even though she hated not being in the field. He didn't mind being ASAC as long as they could keep working together, and it did give him a little more time out of the office.

After Dana's close call when Duane Barry tried to kidnap her, she reluctantly agreed to stop doing field work for William's sake. But without the X-Files she had threatened to leave the Bureau, so Skinner compromised by assigning more agents to them when needed.

Mulder went to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Worse than trying to get William to eat peas, isn't it?" he commented.

She heaved out a sigh that blew her bangs off of her forehead for a moment, then stopped typing and turned in the chair. "No shit," she said, meeting his eyes. "This is it for them. I know Sinclair got assigned to Violent Crimes permanently so we can't use him and Gulliard again, but maybe Skinner can find us some new ones."

"It was a good idea, but until everyone starts taking the X-Files seriously I think we're going to have the same problem with any agents assigned to us," Mulder said grimly. "Although considering we've got one of the highest solve rates in the Bureau you would think they'd be climbing over each other to work with us."

She sat back in the big chair and folded her arms. "You would at that," she agreed. "On a more enjoyable subject, any idea when you'll be able to move the rest of your stuff over?"

"Hopefully this weekend. I need to call the guys back and make sure they're free before I rent a truck." Even two weeks after they'd gotten their own place together Mulder was still having to remind himself that he had to give up the Hegel Place apartment, and that they were getting married in less than two weeks. After years of bachelorhood it was taking some getting used to, but he was loving every minute of it. "I'll just put it all in the basement, and we can figure out what goes where later. Some of it, like the pictures on the walls and the two chairs in the living room, were left over from the last tenant so I'm not taking those."

"I was wondering about that," Dana said. "Those prints did seem a little out of character for you."

"So did you finally get your mom to agree to the flowers you wanted?" he asked. Though he wasn't into the wedding stuff other than what he had to do on that day, Dana had been struggling with what her mother wanted versus what she was determined to have. They had even discussed eloping, though he knew she wanted her family there when she got married. The only family he had invited was his divorced parents, and his mother had at least sent an RSVP while there was radio silence from his father.

"Yes, I told her that lilies smelled like funerals." Dana smiled over at him. "Missy said she'd call the florist and change it back to Shasta daisies."

"I'll be glad when all the fuss is over," Mulder grumbled, not at all seriously. He was glad enough to marry her that he'd have put up with a lot more trouble, not that he was letting on.

"So will I, especially since we'll be in Barbados for five days on our honeymoon," she said with a glint in her eye.

"SAC Scully, are you proposit—" Mulder snapped his mouth shut as he heard footsteps in the hallway outside.

Their boss walked into the office and dropped into the chair next to Mulder, then took his glasses off and cleaned them on his tie. "I saw a couple of rather disgruntled-looking young agents getting in the elevator. I take it the temporary assignments aren't going well?"

"No one takes us seriously right now, but that's going to change," Dana said, sitting up. Mulder exchanged a glance with her and no words were needed. Though they wouldn't complain about the other two agents at the moment, they knew what the other was thinking. "One case at a time."

"So what is this new one about?" Skinner replaced his glasses, looping the hooks around his ears.

Mulder turned to their boss. "It's one I found, sir. There've been three disappearances in the last two weeks at an abandoned park in upper New York State, the Lake Mohawk Amusement Park. Supposedly it's haunted since several children died there before it was shut down. It's been abandoned since 1967 and while it's locked up, people still break in—kids going to make out, ghost hunters, etcetera. I wish I had the case file, sir, there's some really creepy photos of it."

"So who disappeared?"

"Last week, two teenagers went out there with a video camera to make what they told their friends would be an 'even better than the Blair Witch' movie. No one's seen them since, nor has their car turned up. It was last seen at a gas station in a town nearby where they stopped to ask for directions," Scully said.

Mulder took up the tale. "Then, yesterday, a woman from Jersey City reported to the Lake Mohawk sheriff's department that her husband, a paranormal investigator, was missing. He had told her he was going to check out the amusement park on Monday and she hasn't heard from him since."

Skinner nodded. "What do you think is going on there?"

"The kids could be runaways," Mulder said. "They're fifteen and seventeen. The husband, we don't know enough about him yet. That's why we sent Scooby and Shaggy up there."

"Scoo—"

Scully glared at her partner. "Never mind, sir. Agents Lavelle and Weymouth, on loan from the bullpen."

"Ah. So what are you two up to in the meantime?"

"I've got more research to do on the amusement park and surrounding area, so I need to head to the library," Mulder said, standing.

"And I'm getting ready for Friday's budget meeting," Dana said, tapping her monitor screen even though Skinner couldn't see it. "I had expected to have to do more paperwork when I became department head, but I had no idea just how much."

"Welcome to administration, SAC Scully. Welcome to administration." With a dry chuckle Skinner left.

 **II**

"So what did you find interesting at the library this afternoon, Mulder?" Dana asked as she wiped William's face. He liked this about as much as any other eighteen-month-old, and did his best to avoid the washcloth, hands waving in protest. His mother, however, was on to his tricks and Mulder watched with amusement as she got him clean anyway. They'd had chicken Alfredo for dinner and though he wasn't up for the rich sauce, Dana had put some of the chicken chunks and cut-up pieces of fettuccini on his high chair tray. William had loved it, though he'd managed to make a mess of himself even without the sauce.

"I discovered more history on the place, which was fascinating—and sad. In 1793, while a man named Ezekiel Grant was out hunting, a band of Mohawks killed his entire family. His daughter and wife were stabbed to death and his two sons were tortured and burned at the stake, which was not just for witches. Grant went on a revenge spree, killing every native he could find with help from the other settlers. Apparently this went on for years until the Indians were driven out of the area."

"Unhallowed ground," Dana murmured.

"Right. On top of that, in addition to the three children who died at the amusement park, a five-year-old boy was abandoned there by his family." Mulder turned back to loading the dishwasher.

"Oh my God. How could any parent do that?" Dana said from behind him. "No wonder people think it's haunted."

"There have been a lot of ghost sightings over the years. Even before the place closed down." He set the controls and closed the door, then continued straightening up the kitchen as Dana got William down from the chair. "Just recently they've been finding blood and what might be ectoplasm on the abandoned rides and around what's left of the funhouse."

"Blood, yes, but didn't that ectoplasm turn out to be some kind of toy slime?" she said. "William, stay in here with us."

The toddler replied with a line of gibberish that Mulder still couldn't decipher, though Dana seemed to understand him.

"You can play with your toys in a minute, but wait until we come in the living room with you." Though they had carefully childproofed the house, Dana was still paranoid about William being out of her sight for a moment. Mulder hoped she'd calm down about it before the kid went away to college. "Here, play with the alphabet letters on the fridge until we're ready."

"The slime turned out to be a harmless mixture of petroleum jelly with a few other ingredients that they haven't been able to identify yet, so we don't know exactly what it is. Also, I found that there was an archeological dig around the edges of the park in 1978 and they found several Native American burial sites from hundreds of years before the first settlers. They think that there are more bodies buried in the park, but the present land owner wouldn't give them permission to dig inside the fence."

"That explains a lot of the ghost rumors right there— _Poltergeist_ , anyone?" she said, getting two slim wineglasses down for their evening nightcap. "Did you email all of that to Scooby and Shaggy?"

Mulder choked back laugher as he hung the dishcloth over the edge of the sink. "Really, Dana?"

"Yeah, well, you're not the—hey, where's William?"

Though it seemed like the toddler had just been standing at the fridge playing with the magnetized letters, he was now nowhere in sight. "You get the wine, I'll find him," Mulder said, going into the other room. "William? Where are you?"

Dana was right on his heels. "He's not in here?"

"No, and his toys seem undisturbed." The toddler had a corner of the living room for himself, lined with foam alphabet floor tiles and a low toybox, but he wasn't in sight. Mulder hurried to the baby's room while Dana ran for the den, both of them calling his name.

Mulder found William in his bedroom, trying to pry his stuffed teddy out of the crib although it wouldn't fit between the bars. The little boy looked up at him and spouted gibberish, which this time Mulder could understand well enough. "All right, I'll get your bear, but you listen to your mom from now on," he said.

But before he could reach the crib Dana brushed past him and scooped up her son. " _William!_ You scared Mommy! Don't do that again, you listen to me when I tell you to say put!"

William's round face puckered at the scolding and he began to cry, hiding his face in his mother's neck. Though Mulder rarely stepped in between mother and son, he thought this might be an appropriate time. "Uh, Dana, he's fine," he pointed out as he plucked the stuffed toy out of the crib and handed it to the sobbing toddler, tapping him on the shoulder with it so that he looked up, his crying already tapering off. William took the toy and hugged it against Dana's shoulder, snuffling piteously. "Why are you scolding him? He was just in the next room."

"Because, Mulder, toddlers can hurt themselves in the blink of an eye," she snapped back, still upset. "They can electrocute themselves, fall down stairs, get into plastic bags and suffocate—any number of things."

"I don't think that either of _us_ could manage to do any of those with how well you've child-proofed this house," Mulder said with some exasperation. "I still haven't figured out the child gate at the top of the basement stairs and the locks on the lower kitchen cabinet doors."

"Then I know they work," Dana said snidely, carrying the sniffling baby into the other room.

Mulder stood for a moment, hesitating, then decided not to engage. Though Dana was a strictly rational scientist at all other times, around William she became totally obsessed to the point of paranoia about his safety. He wasn't sure why she was so overly protective of him, but this didn't seem to be the time to fight about it.

The rest of the evening went peacefully; they shared their usual glass of wine while watching the evening news, then Mulder went upstairs to his office to work on his book while Dana put William down for the night. That had been one of his caveats to returning to the FBI; he had to have time to finish at least this second book even if he didn't write any others. His first was still selling well.

"Hey, Mulder, did Lavelle or Weymouth call or email you?"

Mulder turned from his PC. "No, I haven't heard from them. They didn't check in?"

"No, and those little asshats are going to rue the day." Dana's head disappeared from the doorway of his office and he shook his; it was better that she was annoyed at them rather than him. He was glad he wasn't in their shoes.

 **III**

"They never checked in at your office, Sheriff Knieberg?"

Mulder's attention was caught by Dana's concerned voice. He was loading up the slide carousel to do a presentation on another possible case, and she'd been fruitlessly calling Weymouth and Lavelle on their cells when the office phone rang.

"Yeah, could you? It would ease my mind. I hope they didn't get in a car accident or something on the way up there." Pause. "Yes, as far as I know, at the airport then drove. That would be standard procedure. I'll do that. Thanks."

"They never turned up in Lake Mohawk?" Mulder walked over the desk, slides forgotten.

"No. I'm going to call the airport and make sure they arrived and rented a car."

An hour later they had established that Lavelle and Weymouth hadn't been seen since they'd picked up their rental car at La Guardia for the hour-long drive to Lake Mohawk, which was the town that the park was named after. Nor had their families heard from them. The county sheriff's office had been called in as well but a sweep of the area, including the abandoned amusement park, had turned up nothing.

"There's no help for it, Mulder, we'll have to follow their trail and see if we can figure out what happened to them." Scully hung up the phone after her eighth call of the morning. "I'm sure that someone, somewhere along their route must have seen them, a gas station or convenience store they could have stopped at, or they're lying unconscious in a ditch or hospital. The sheriff's department is putting out an APB, but it's our responsibility for sending them. Something must have happened, even _they_ know better than to just disappear without a word."

"I hope Scooby and Shaggy didn't go straight to the amusement park and the ghosts got them," Mulder said facetiously. Later, he would remember that remark and deeply regret it.

 **IV**

They just had time to stop at Maggie Scully's and say goodbye to William before racing home to pack. They made it to Dulles with less than fifteen minutes before their plane left. It was after two by the time they rented a car at La Guardia and were ready to trace Lavelle and Weymouth's trail from the city to Lake Mohawk, which was in the Catskills. The good thing was that they would be on the freeway for all but the last twenty minutes, and it was unlikely that the other agents had left the road except for possibly a bathroom break at one of the anonymous rest stops.

"You drive, Mulder, I have to call Missy back; she left a voicemail while I was on the plane," Dana said as they walked out to the rental car. "Something to do with the wedding reception; I hope to God that nothing's gone wrong this late in the game."

Mulder liked Scully's flaky older sister, though he knew she drove Dana nuts at times. Her brothers, however, were another story. Her oldest brother Bill Jr. didn't seem to like him for some reason, and Charlie, the youngest, was estranged from the family and seemed to cause more trouble than he was worth.

"Missy? It's me. What's going on?" He could hear her sister's voice squawking over the cell phone's tinny speaker even from the other seat. "Wait, slow down. You're saying the caterer cancelled? They double-booked?" Pause. "It's not a big deal, Missy. Mulder liked the other one better, so give them a call. Yeah, the one with the meatballs and fried chicken, they said they were free on the eighth. I don't care, it's not a problem. If they give you any trouble let me know and I'll take care of it. Thanks. Oh, not too long, hopefully no more than a day or two."

Dana snapped the cellular shut and pushed the antenna down with, perhaps, more force than it deserved. "Well, Mulder, it looks like you'll get your wish on the caterer."

"Hey, those barbeque meatballs were great," he said.

"I won't be eating any of them, considering I'll be wearing a white wedding dress that costs more than my living room set did," Dana said pointedly.

"I'll bring a giant bib, or make sure we take some home for you," Mulder said, flashing a big innocent smile at her before returning his attention to the road. "I'm sure we could think of something interesting to do with them on our wedding night."

She huffed and didn't answer, but he saw her fighting a grin.

They stopped at every rest area along the way, searching out any maintenance workers on duty and showing pictures of the other two agents, but no one recognized them. None of the locations had cameras, though Mulder knew that more and more were being installed everywhere.

At the last one before their turnoff Mulder used the restroom while they were there, and when he came out it was to a crowd of children that he, at first, thought was a class trip. The din was deafening. He saw Dana across the hall helping a small girl get a drink from the water fountain, and couldn't help a grin especially when she looked up and saw him watching her. Ever a mom, he thought. When he finally made it to her the children were streaming out of the building like lemmings, the noise level having dropped enough so that they could hear each other. "Odd time for a field trip," he remarked as he reached her.

"I thought the same thing but that's not a school class, that's two families." Scully grinned, shaking her head as they headed for the double doors vacated by the mob of children now running down the sidewalk towards the parking lot. "That little girl told me it's her brothers and sisters and cousins. Twenty-three in all."

"Wow, unlimited warfare," Mulder said. As they walked towards the car he asked, "Dana, does it bother you that you can't have any more children? You said that you were worried that I would want one of my own, but what about you?"

She gave him a lovely close-mouthed smile. In the sunlight her auburn hair sparkled with gold highlights and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. "I think I'm good with just the one, but if we change our minds later, who says we can't adopt? There's more than one way to get a child, Mulder."

"Even if we can't procreate the traditional way, it sure is fun trying." He leered at her, getting a laugh. As they got into the car he saw the group of children climbing one-by-one into a large extended Econovan, adults standing on either side of the sliding door and counting heads.

When they were back on the road, he couldn't get the image of the adults counting kids out of his head. It reminded him of the movie Home Alone, and something he'd run across while researching the Lake Mohawk area. "Hey Dana, did I tell you that when I was doing research for this case I saw a story on an entire family that was killed just outside Lake Mohawk before the park closed?"

"That's pretty grim," she said. "Why would you bring that up?"

"That big group of kids reminded me. It was a car accident; they went off an embankment but it was never discovered why. They were packed into a station wagon and most of them were thrown clear; from what I read there were bodies littering the side of the hill all the way down. This was long before mandatory seat belts. And there was one child missing; they never did find his body."

"You know, that may be why I'm so… paranoid… around William," she said, surprising him by bringing up the subject. "I know, I know, I'm too overprotective. But when Charlie was a baby, around six months I think, he fell down an entire flight of stairs in one of the apartments my parents lived in. Apparently my dad came home, we were all running around, and they think the door didn't close all the way and Charlie got it open." She paused, looking out the passenger window. "He was fine and my mom always remarks on how his guardian angel was watching but Mulder, I don't want to make William's angel work any harder than he or she has to," she said, and he glanced over to see unshed tears in her glistening eyes. "I'll… I'll try to relax a bit, but work with me, okay?"

"You've got it," he said, reaching over to squeeze her hand breifly. "Thanks for telling me."

"All right, then," she said, opening the map. "The next rest stop is in fifteen miles, and this is the last one before we get off the freeway."

They stopped at every gas station and convenience store, several roadside produce stands, and one ice cream parlor with a drive-through where he insisted on getting them each a small cone before they reached Lake Mohawk at nearly four o'clock. No one remembered seeing a pair of men in suits driving a brand-new black Ford Taurus, which should have stuck out in this area like a beach ball in the snow, Mulder thought as the drove down the main street.

The town of Lake Mohawk didn't look much different from the hundreds of small towns he'd seen in his travels, although there did seem to be more fifties and sixties-era signs and facades on the stores. It was almost as if time had stopped around 1970. The lone motel looked like it was right out of _Psycho_ designed by Davy Crockett, with a brown-and-white arrow sign that advertised both color TV and air conditioning. He was impressed that the town not only had a motel, but enough people staying in the area to keep it open. Though all the old Catskills resorts were gone, the region was still well-known for the hunting and fishing that had originally brought city-dwellers to the area so that must be their clientele, he thought.

"Let's go talk to the sheriff, then we'll check into the motel before going out to the amusement park," Dana said. "I can't believe that no one has seen them since they got off the freeway. I haven't seen a single black person since we left La Guardia so I know they'd remember Lavelle around here."

Mulder had to agree now that she mentioned it. "I hadn't thought of that, but you're right."

The town sheriff didn't seem as bothered by their presence as many local lawmen were but also not as welcoming as they could have hoped. "You know, I had no idea that three missing people would cause this much fuss, bringing out the FBI," he told them as they stood talking over the front desk. He hadn't even invited them behind the counter. "I'm as sure as I can be that those kids ran away, and we found out that Chandler, the ghost hunter, had a piece on the side."

"Has she seen him?" Scully asked, clearly annoyed.

"No, said not for a couple of weeks, but she could be hiding him if he wanted to disappear," the sheriff said defensively.

"Do you have a warrant for us to go on the property?" Mulder said. "I understand you can't find the owner."

"Yeah, the last one died back in the '80s and apparently it reverted to some distant relative of his, but we haven't been able to track them down yet. We'd appreciate some help on that, if you want."

Scully frowned. "We're more concerned with our missing agents."

"Well, we've been over the park with a fine-tooth comb, but if you wanna go out there…" He shrugged, turned a map laying on the counter towards them, and pointed. "It's not far. Just take Main Street, which turns into Route 10, about five miles. Once you pass the Camp Hiawatha sign it's the very next driveway a mile or so down; it's overgrown but you'll see tire tracks."

"We'll find it," Scully said shortly. "Thanks for all your help, Sheriff."

Though Mulder knew that she was being sarcastic, the other man appeared to miss it. "Do all I can to help you Feds," he said, obviously meaning that he wanted to get rid of them. The feeling was mutual, but Mulder judiciously didn't say so.

 **V**

They found the Lake Mohawk Amusement Park turnoff with no trouble; as the sheriff had implied, a lot of tire tracks led in and out of the broken concrete driveway. It was more dirt and gravel at this point, Mulder thought as they crawled, jolting, over the broken blocks and bounced through untold seasons' worth of potholes. There was prolific growth right up to the road, though the track seemed well-cleared probably from all the vehicles lately. The trees encroached as they bumped along and for a few yards they could see nothing but forest on all sides, other than the broken track they were following. Then it opened up in front of them and Scully slammed on the brakes in surprise. Luckily they were barely moving at that point.

"Wow," Mulder breathed, leaning forward to get a better look. "No wonder people think there are ghosts here."

"This is possibly one of the creepiest things I've ever seen," Dana said, getting the car moving again. "Even _I_ could almost believe in ghosts here."

In the distance were the skeletal remains of several rides, all with plants and vines growing on and up through them: a Ferris wheel, a giant slide, a rotating swing, and a small rollercoaster that looked comparable to the Wild Mouse of traveling carnivals. As they got closer Mulder could make out several more rides and a few buildings and kiosks, though he couldn't quite see exactly what they were. The entire area was surrounded by a rusted, broken-down six-foot chain-link fence with faded "No Trespassing" signs hanging haphazardly every few feet, but the metal-bar main gate appeared to have been long broken open as many plants had grown through its slats.

Dana's cell buzzed suddenly, making them both jump. She fumbled the tiny phone out of her inside jacket pocket, mostly letting the car crawl along on its own since the ruts in the drive took them the way they wanted to go. "Agent Dana Scully," she said. She listened for a while then, "Did you say sexual lubricant?"

Mulder's eyebrows hit his hair and it was all he could do not to snatch the phone out of her hand. He unsnapped his seat belt and leaned closer, but could barely make out the voice on the other end.

"Yes, yes, thanks for that info. I'm sure it'll come in handy. By the way, Sheriff, if this place is off-limits, why in the gate wide open? Oh... oh, I see. All right." She pressed the End button and tossed her cellular into the console between their seats. "What a jerk."

"Day-naaa…"

"The ectoplasm, Mulder. It turned out to be something like K-Y Jelly, though they're not sure exactly what yet," she said, shaking her head. "Apparently someone still has a good time out here."

He huffed a sigh, disappointed. Foiled yet again on getting proof of the supernatural. "So why is the gate open?"

"There was a chain across it, but they cut the padlock when they went in looking for the kids and never put it back." Scully shook her head. "They are _not_ taking this seriously enough."

"You can say that again," Mulder agreed as she brought the car to a bouncing stop just outside the sagging gate and picked up her phone from the console, tucking back into her inside coat pocket. He spotted a rusty chain falling from the top of the gate post and disappearing into the grass on one side. "Jesus, this is spooky. No joke intended."

They got out of the car, the very normality of a bright spring day seeming to make the place even creepier. It was cool enough for jackets, but not cold. Birds sang, crickets chirped, a soft breeze blew through the barely-leafed trees surrounding the park with a cloudless blue sky overhead, but inside the fence was a place of nightmares that had once masqueraded as family fun.

Together they walked into the park, grasshoppers leaping away as their feet disturbed the long, brown grass. Just past the gate was what must have been the entrance ticket booth, its once-bright blue paint now bleached to faded periwinkle flakes, mossy wooden shingles from the roof laying in the dead grass around it. It was just large enough to contain two people comfortably, with boarded-up windows on three sides, a door in the back, and a counter along the front. "These buildings have held up well, don't you think, considering the place was abandoned in 1967?" Mulder pushed on one corner of the shack. A shower of paint flakes drifted down, but the building barely moved.

"As they say, they don't make them like this anymore," Scully said with the ghost of a smile as they moved on. "But you're right. These have endured thirty-plus years of harsh mountain weather. I'm surprised that any of the wood is left intact at all, never mind still standing."

They came around a grove of small trees growing out into the rough path and entered the park proper, both stopping and looking around. "This is even freakier than Pripyat," Mulder said in a hushed tone, referring to the abandoned Ukrainian town and amusement park that had been evacuated when the Chernobyl meltdown occurred in 1986. "But at least we won't get irradiated by being here."

"There is that," Scully agreed drily. Then they stood for a time, looking, in silence.

The sagging Ferris wheel, which still had all of its cars though many were broken and appeared to be attached by no more than a rusty bolt or two, hung over the swimming pond where a young boy had drowned in 1966, reflected like a lost monolith. To its right was the playground on the shore of what had probably been the swimming beach. The broken swing set leaned drunkenly to one side and was almost covered in vines. The metal slide had fallen over and was nearly invisible beneath its coat of un-leafed foliage; in the summer, he thought, it wouldn't even be visible. Picnic tables were scattered around the area, some missing boards or collapsed but none covered in graffiti. Mulder found that odd but filed it away to think about later.

Beyond the playground was the mechanical swings, a good twenty feet tall with a dozen or more seats hanging from broken and rusted chains, the wood surprisingly intact. Though vines had crawled up the main strut in the middle, the seats hung unfettered to about four feet from the ground. It looked like a giant spider about to pounce. He recalled that a young girl had been killed on them when a delivery truck mistakenly backed into the path of the swings and had to repress a shudder.

The carousel was completely empty but for the wide center strut, its mirrors missing and once-cheerful paint bleached to nondescript shades of grey, with the tattered, colorless canopy hanging overhead. Even the poles that had held the horses were gone. Then there were several children's rides, with nothing left but the metal skeletons tilted one way or another in the high dead grass. All of the ride cars were missing, even the tiny train on the miniature railroad.

To their right was the roller coaster, which didn't go higher than ten or twelve feet with wooden tracks and no sign of its cars either. Though the rails were badly rusted and eaten away in spots, otherwise it appeared sturdy enough to ride. Vines and small trees had twisted up through the structure, cloaking some of its original struts with newer wood. Nearby, he saw that one of the buildings appeared to be a bumper-car track though the roof was missing, the half-dozen support poles holding up nothing more than air. The bumper cars themselves, their once-bright paint also faded away to sad pastels, were scattered among the leaves and branches that covered the floor.

"No wonder people believe in ghosts here," Scully finally said in a quiet voice, and that seemed to break their paralysis. They began to walk again, passing between the swings and bumper cars. The faded but still standing Giant Slide was now on their left, a huge chunk missing out of the middle which would send anyone on it straight to the ground ten feet below. "Well, there's the missing bumper cars roof."

"Yeah, it's not so much fun anymore," Mulder said as they approached the Funhouse. The roof from the bumper cars, seemingly complete, had been hurled into the front and the funhouse's roof had collapsed onto it. This building had sustained the most damage of any they'd seen, and they passed it by without bothering to look inside.

They walked around the entire park, not touching anything, taking in the area and eyeballing for clues. But nothing seemed out of place; it was as abandoned as they'd been led to believe, with no signs of recent human presence other than the occasional boot prints which they assumed were from the cops who'd tromped through here in the past few weeks. The light had changed from afternoon to evening, but Mulder thought they had another half hour or so to look around before pulling out their flashlights. That prospect didn't thrill him, however; this place was creepy enough that even _he_ had second thoughts about walking around it in the dark.

"Let's split up," Dana said, taking a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket. "I want to see if I can find any of the so-called ectoplasm-slash-lubricant and get a clean sample. The ones they had were contaminated, which is why they couldn't be sure what it was."

Mulder was uneasy about it, but for the hundredth time reminded himself that Dana Scully was a perfectly capable agent who could take care of herself, or she wouldn't be in the FBI. Of course those two young agents had also been fully capable, and where were they? But he knew he couldn't keep trying to protect her just because she was his fiancée. "All right, but let's stay in voice range," he agreed reluctantly. "You have your cell phone on you?"

"Yes. Come on, Mulder, I may be a little out of practice but I _was_ a field agent for five years," she said with exasperation. Then she turned away and headed for the dilapidated playground, which was where most of the petroleum substance had been found. He wanted to check the ticket booth at the front, because it seemed to be the only structure where someone could hide.

As he walked back through the abandoned park he looked around, wondering again how so much of the wood and metal had survived the elements, and why there was no graffiti. Even in the worst neighborhoods he'd seen there was graffiti everywhere, so why should this place be any different? Was there some respect for a place that people thought haunted?

There was a rustling noise from behind him and he turned, but saw nothing. "Dana?" he called. He saw movement to his right but it was just the breeze pushing at a few of the hanging swings; the wind seemed to be picking up now that dusk was falling. No surprise that people thought the place was haunted, he thought again. "Dana! _Scully!"_ he called louder, turning to retrace his steps. Nothing answered but the sounds of birds singing, crickets chirping in the distance. Shit. There was no way she couldn't hear him unless something had happened to her. As he was fumbling in his suit jacket pocket for his cell phone, about to break into a run, the ground suddenly rushed up at him and the world went black.

 **VI**

" _Don't you fucking touch him you bastard!"_

Mulder woke suddenly to pain blossoming in his side to join his aching head, and Dana's enraged scream. Rolling across a hard surface, he tried unsuccessfully to open his eyes and winced as something pounded into his ribs. He let out a hoarse yell of his own as he continued to revolve. Mulder tried to stop his movement only to discover that his arms and legs didn't seem to work, and then slammed up against something hard and unyielding, cracking his already-aching head a good smack that made him groan out loud.

He managed to get his eyes open just long enough to register that a large person was looming over him before pain bloomed in his stomach this time, knocking the wind out of him and making him retch helplessly. Scully was still screaming in the background and he couldn't make sense of what was going on. Once again he tried to lift his arms only to discover that they appeared to be tied down, and that struggling only made the pain in his head and torso even worse. Instead he curled up, managing to bring his knees up to his chest to catch the next kick in his shins. Sharp agony radiated out from his legs and he screamed.

"That'll teach you to leave me!" an unfamiliar male voice said from above him. Mulder realized that he had shut his eyes again and now opened them to see a bulky figure walking away across a large, dimly lit room, though the ceiling was low and it was too dark to see much. Whatever light there was came from an unseen source. Gasping for breath, his legs on fire, he glanced around looking for Dana but couldn't see her in the gloom and was afraid to call out and bring their captor's attention back to himself.

"Now you shut up too, bitch, unless you want to meet your maker even sooner."

Scully's screams and threats ceased abruptly.

Mulder relaxed just a little as he got air back into his lungs, hissing silently as his body protested with stabs of agony, his shins and head hurting the worst. She couldn't be injured too badly if she could scream like that and then be totally quiet when told to, he reasoned. The man had been kicking him, he realized, across a hard floor, possibly cement by the icy cold, unyielding feel. Though he wasn't sure where they were, he could smell sour old dirt, coppery blood, and a thick, stale, moldy scent that he couldn't quite place but which was annoyingly familiar.

Everything came back then. The haunted amusement park, he and Dana separating, being unable to find her. This was the liveliest ghost he'd ever heard of, Mulder thought glumly. Yet again, it was a purely human horror causing the problem.

He heard something shuffling, being moved around, and raised his head slightly to look. His skull thudded painfully and he couldn't see much, just able to make out a darker figure ten or so feet away standing at what he thought might be a workbench of some type with a weak light suspended over it. The rest of the room faded away into pitch-black shadows, though he thought the ceiling was rather low.

"What are you going to do with us?" Scully's voice was now calm and at normal volume. From the sound of it she wasn't far away, but something large and dark blocked his view above his head where her voice came from. Probably a stack of boxes, he guessed, by the vague outline of their size and shapes.

"Well, torture and kill you, of course. What else you think?" The man's deep voice was so normal and matter of fact that it made Mulder's skin crawl. "After what yous did to me, y'all don't deserve nothin' less."

"What did we do to you?" Scully's voice was still calm and rational, but he saw the figure stop whatever it was doing and turn to his right.

"Like you don't fuckin know! Why d'ya always say that? Don't play stupid with me, missy!"

Though his head still throbbed, it was clearing and Mulder decided to take a chance. "So you're saying that we deserve what we're about to get?"

"Damn straight you do! Leaving me here all alone, I dunno why you picked me since I wasn't the littlest, nor sickly like Denny. Do you know what those people did to me?" he said angrily. "I thought you loved me! Y'all _pretended_ to love me! But you threw me out like garbage."

Something was tickling the back of Mulder's mind but it wouldn't come clear through the painful pounding of his skull.

"We never did anything to you," Scully said, now sounding angry.

Warning lights went off. What had their captor said about meeting their maker sooner than later? Apparently he didn't like to be argued with, and they needed to buy time. He decided to take another chance. "Dana, don't argue, go along with—"

"That's not her name, that's Sissy, and don't you even dare talk to her, you prick!" the man snapped over his shoulder. "Less'n you want more of m'boot."

Luckily, Dana caught on. "We never meant to hurt you," she said, once again sounding calm and rational. "Why do you think we did?"

While she had their captor distracted Mulder took stock of the situation. He was laying up against what felt like a hard stone or brick wall; it was freezing cold and he could feel lumps at regular intervals along his back. When he tried to move he found that his hands were tied behind him, with more ropes around his ankles, knees, and chest which pinned his elbows to his sides. Everything was tight with no give, though he didn't feel his hands or feet going numb from the constriction. Whoever this psycho was, he knew what he was doing. Unfortunately.

"Why do you always say that? All of you say that," the man grumbled. "Never admit it. Never take responsibility for your actions. What'd you think would happen when you left a little kid all alone in a strange place and never came back for him?"

Despite his pounding head something clicked in Mulder's mind. "Were you left here back in 1966?" he croaked through a dry throat.

"You should know, you did it! You, and Mommy and Dad, all the other kids were in on it." The figure turned back towards him, and Mulder waited, almost cringing, for another kick.

"Wait—wait," Scully called desperately. "We didn't mean to, uh, brother."

Their kidnapper turned in profile to Mulder, who could just make him out in the dimness. "How can you say that?" he cried. "You never came back for me!"

Then it all clicked. The abandoned boy, the family who had died in a car crash nearby but the body of one child was never found, this man thinking he and Scully were his long-lost siblings. "We missed you, yes, but we tried to come back and get you," Mulder said, trying to think clearly through the waves of pain throbbing through his entire body. "But we got in a car accident, and didn't make it."

"Likely story," the man said, but turned back towards Mulder, took a step, then hesitated. "A car accident?"

"Yeah—Mommy and, uh, Dad died, and we were never able to get back to you," Mulder improvised fast. His best guess was that this man was living in a warped fantasy and he desperately tried to play along, buying them as much time as he could. Though he was helpless, he had no idea if Scully was tied up the same way or if she had a way to get free. At any rate, he'd give her the best chance he could by distracting their captor.

"You were coming back for me?" The other man's voice was growing higher in pitch, sounding younger rather than upset. He took another step towards Mulder. "You didn't forget me?"

"No, no we didn't," he said as evenly as he could. Keeping the other man calm was of paramount importance if he didn't want more broken ribs. "We were all, uh, taken away and we couldn't find you."

"They took me to an orphanage," their kidnapper said in a small, sad voice. He no longer sounded like an angry adult man, but a scared child. He came over and hunkered down in front of Mulder's face, hands dangling between his knees, his pale face indistinct in the darkness. "They were mean to me… very, very mean. All the tuh-time." His voice broke on a sob. "They did… did things to me. Horrible things. No one cared."

If only his head wasn't pounding, Mulder thought desperately. "I'm sorry… brother," he said, wishing he knew the man's name "I'm sorry we missed you, and I'm sorry we couldn't make it back to you."

"But I survived." The dark figure's head lifted. "I learned me a trade, being a butcher, and moved to New York City. That's where I… I killed you, over and over… but how can… _you're not my brother!"_ He leaped to his feet, his voice going from childlike to angry adult in a split second. But then he suddenly arched over backward, screaming hoarsely and grabbing at his throat, and stumbled to the floor where he began to thrash around, kicking and gasping. Mulder was just able to make out something on his back when he turned onto all fours and tried to get up, but had no idea what was going on. It had to be Scully, but what was she doing? The other man bumped into the workbench as he went down again and sent the light swinging, casting jagged, moving shadows back and forth across the large room. Mulder tried to move, sit up or roll away, but was unable to do more than inch away by wriggling his shoulders and knees. The severe pain almost made him black out.

When he looked again, their kidnapper was still on the ground, flaying around but not as fiercely as he had been moments before. His gasps were also decreasing in volume, mixed with gravelly choking and coughing sounds. Then he made a horrible ratcheting noise and collapsed, motionless.

Nothing happened for a few moments, then the large man's body rolled over and in the swinging shadows, he saw a smaller figure stand up next to it. Even in the bad lighting conditions he knew Scully's outline anywhere, even in her trench coat. She leaned down and touched the other man, then hopped over to Mulder.

"Are you all right, Mulder? He's not dead, so I've got to get these cuffs off me and on him fast," she said, kneeling down next to him. He felt her fingers plucking at the ropes, then she growled in frustration. "I can't get the knots. Hang on, I have to find something to cut them with. Keep an eye on him and let me know if he moves, okay?"

"You got it," Mulder croaked. His eyes were steady on the large, lumpy shape as Dana hopped/hobbled away—he realized that she must have both her ankles and wrists cuffed—then returned within moments carrying what he recognized as a large butcher's knife. "Where'd you get that from?"

"There's a whole bunch of knives on that table over there," she said, the shudder clear in her voice. "Has he moved?"

"Nope. Scoot over a little, yeah like that, and I'll keep watching him while you cut me free. What did you just do?"

"I was cuffed and hung from my arms from a hook in the wall, but while he was distracted with you, I was able to swing my legs up and brace them on one of the overhead beams and pull myself off the hook. Then I jumped on his back and strangled him with the cuff chain until he was unconscious; it was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, I have to admit, and my shoulders and arms are killing me. But I didn't see anything to use as a weapon, and I had to disable him fast."

"That's my G-woman. What in the hell happened to us, Dana, you have any idea?"

"I woke up hanging from the hook to him screaming at me, and then he started kicking you across the room," she said as she sawed at the rope across his chest. "My head hurts like hell, how about you?"

"Along with the rest of me." He hissed with pain as she slid the rope from around his sore torso, then began to quickly search him, though he could tell she was trying to be gentle. Still, their number one concern at this point was to get the suspect secured before they did anything else.

"We were probably cold-cocked, then," she said as she pulled a ring of keys out of his trench coat pocket. "Thank God, I was afraid he might have taken these. Let me get him cuffed and then I'll finish getting you loose."

He was still watching the large, motionless shape on the floor a short distance away as he heard the clicking and clanking of handcuffs being removed. Dana stood up, shaking out her arms, then he listened to her grunt as she rolled their attacker over on his face and managed to cuff his hands behind his back. After a few more minutes of fumbling she came back and picked up the rope she'd cut off of him. "I can't get the cuffs on his ankles so I'll have to tie him—just a couple more minutes, Mulder, hang on."

"I'm with you, no worry. Where are we, Dana, do you know?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. This seems like a basement, but there are no houses near the amusement park so he must have taken us somewhere else. Maybe that campground we saw on the way there, it could have buildings." She came back, picked up the knife from the floor where she'd left it, and quickly cut through the rest of the ropes binding him. Helping him sit up, she said, "How badly are you hurt, Mulder? It's too dark to see a thing."

"From prior experience I suspect I may have broken or cracked a couple of ribs, my gut is on fire, my shins hurt like hell, and my head feels like it's being used as a drum set by an angry demon," he said as he gingerly leaned back against the cold, lumpy wall. His head spun in addition to pounding. "Go ahead, I don't think I can stand but I'll be okay while you get help."

"All right." She paused to cup the side of his face, then leaned down and kissed him briefly before standing up and moving away. She'd kissed the corner of his mouth and where her lips had touched tingled, a promise in the dark.

She had found their guns, flashlights, and cell phones on a rickety table just a short distance away, though neither had been able to see it around the piles of boxes until she went looking. "I can't get a signal down here," Dana said with frustration. "I'll be right back." He heard the sound of her steps on wood retreating, but she returned shortly.

"Where in the hell are we?" Mulder asked. "Could you tell?"

"In the basement of the funhouse, believe it or not," Scully said wryly as she sat down next to him. "Of course, the one place we didn't look. It's a regular house that was converted into the funhouse, I think, and it seems that the basement wasn't damaged when the bumper car roof went through the main floor. The bulkhead doors were wide open."

He was laying with his head in her lap, both coats beneath him, the suspect still out cold nearby when help arrived about fifteen minutes later. Both he and Dana shaded their eyes as bright lights went on overhead. As he was lifted onto the stretcher Mulder saw that they were, indeed, in a large cinderblock-walled basement filled with boxes, old furniture, and a workbench covered with knives of all sizes and shapes. They carried him up a flight of stairs and as they wheeled him out into the cold night air, he saw the outline of the derelict Ferris wheel against the slightly lighter sky. He tried to lift his head to look back at the funhouse, but the movement was too much for his abused skull and he promptly passed out.

 **VII**

Mulder escorted his bride down the aisle from the altar to more cheering and clapping than he'd heard since junior high, when he sank the winning shot in the last three seconds of the championship game. Though Scully's family was a bit more restrained, his cheering section was making up for it. He couldn't help the big grin that split his face as he passed Frohike, Byers, and Langley whooping it up as he and Dana passed.

Then his eyes went to his brand-new wife, walking calmly by his side though he could feel her hand trembling on his arm. They had, as usual, done exactly the opposite of what he'd expected; he was calm and collected, she was tearful and shaky. Dana was wearing a stately confection of a white wedding dress, which made her look regal—and stunningly beautiful.

He wondered if anyone noticed how stiffly he was moving in his rented black tux. Though it had been almost ten days since the attack at the amusement park he still had his broken ribs wrapped, though the worst of the discolorations had faded and he no longer walked with a limp from his badly-bruised tibias. Though that final kick in the shins hadn't broken the bones, it had been a close thing. Luckily Dana hadn't been hurt worse than the crack on the head, which caused a mild concussion but no lasting effects.

Outside it was a beautiful, flawless June day; the sun was shining and a late afternoon breeze had sprung up. They hurried from the church to the waiting limo, Mulder moving as fast as he could until they tumbled inside and flopped into the wide back seat. He suppressed a hiss as his ribs were jolted when he put his arm around Dana, ignoring the ache in favor of the fun they were having. It was far too rare that they simply relaxed and enjoyed themselves like this.

The pain in his sides reminded him of the close call they'd had, but he did his best to put it out of his mind while holding his brand-new wife in his arms. Still, it lingered. The death of agents Weymouth and Lavelle had been a shock, and both he and Scully still felt responsible for them though they knew damn well that there was no way they could have known the kind of danger they were sending the younger agents into. Their bodies, along with the three other missing people and five more, had been found in the bottom of the swimming pond. They were wrapped in heavy canvas tarps and held down with cinderblocks and might never have been discovered; it was far deeper than anyone had known. The victims' cars had still not been found.

Dana scooted around beneath his arm and put a hand on his thigh as the limo began to move. "Think we can sneak out early?" she said wistfully. "I wish I hadn't let my mom talk me into this big fancy reception with the whole family there, and then some."

He grinned and gave a light squeeze of her shoulders, just enough so it wouldn't affect his ribs. "Don't tempt me or I'll tell the driver to keep going to the airport," he said. "But hey, let's enjoy the party if we can't get out of it."

"How are you feeling?" She turned to look up at him, her blue eyes wide but forehead slightly furrowed. "If you're not up to this, seriously…"

"I'm fine, Dana, really." He smiled down at her. "Especially for the post-reception activities."

She relaxed again, laying her head back against his arm. The scratchy white netting of her short veil brushed the side of his face and he pushed it back with his free hand. She looked at him again. "You know, if you're not—"

"Oh I'll be up to it, and here's proof," he said, twisting around so that he was able to kiss her thoroughly, ignoring any and all aches and pains. By the time they separated both were panting, and he was glad that there was still some ways to go to the reception hall so he could cool down a bit. People might not have noticed his walking a bit stiffly, but an erection that tented out his tuxedo could not be ignored. And that was exactly what he was sporting right now. "I agreed with waiting until I was healed enough, but trust me, I am!"

"No more argument from me," she said, reaching over to wipe his mouth with her gentle fingers. "I think you're wearing more of my lipstick than I am, now."

Without a word he got the hanky out of his tux jacket pocket and cleaned up the mess he'd made of her lips; truth be told, he liked her much better without all the makeup and fancy upswept hairstyle. The dress, however, met with his approval as it had a low bodice.

"Are we presentable again?" She smiled up at him when he tucked the scrap of cloth away.

"More than I'd like us to be." He leered, making her chuckle softly.

They fell silent then. Dana leaned her head against his shoulder as he relaxed back against the cushioned seat. To help cool his body down, Mulder thought about what they had learned about Mickey Spears, aka Michael Spieren, the killer who had been haunting the Mohawk Amusement Park for the last three months. He was, indeed, the five-year-old who had been left at the amusement park in 1966å, and after some digging and DNA tests they had verified that he was also the missing child from the car accident which had wiped out the entire Spieren family. The reason that they had not been able to ID the child was because the little boy didn't correctly pronounce his last name, and he also gave them his nickname of Mickey rather than the correct first name of Michael. So his relatives were never found, the connection to the dead family never made.

Michael/Mickey had gone to one of the last remaining orphanages in New York state, then at age nine was sent into the foster care system. He disappeared from all records until 1979, when he got a job working in a slaughterhouse in the meat packing district of New York City. According to his Social Security records he worked there steadily until 1989, when he was caught red-handed dragging an unconscious teenage girl into one of the abattoir buildings at four in the morning. His defense was that he thought it was his long-lost sister, but that totally collapsed when they found three more young girls' bodies in the slaughterhouse. He was sentenced to an asylum for the criminally insane for life after being found unable to stand trial by reason of insanity. Then, in March of this year, he had been mistakenly released after years of being moved from one institution to another as the state asylums were closed.

It was shortly after that when the first disappearances began, though no one had known it at the time. The old, abandoned Catskills resorts, not far away, were a haven for the homeless and derelict and he had hunted his victims there at first. But then people stumbled across him while he was living in the abandoned park, and in his mind they were the family who abandoned him. The one saving grace in Mulder's mind was that they had finally stopped him; the NYC PD were still discovering cases of missing persons that had been his victims over the years as they pulled bodies out of the Hudson right where he told them where they would be. It was also suspected that Spears/Spieren had possibly gotten rid of some bodies among the steer and pig carcasses he'd butchered.

Mulder sighed unthinkingly and Dana's hand tightened on his leg. "Thinking about Weymouth and Lavelle?" she said softly.

She knew him far too well. "Sorry, shouldn't be thinking about that now," he said, turning to kiss her forehead.

"I can't stop thinking about them either. But we had no way of knowing…" Her voice trailed off.

"We have to keep telling ourselves that," he agreed, giving her shoulders a squeeze despite a twinge from his ribs. "Now, let's go in there with big smiles on our faces and music in our hearts."

Though he was being facetious Mulder loved the grin that lit up Dana's face at his words. And while, he thought, they might never live happily-ever-after, they'd live as best as they possibly could and never stop in their fight against all kinds of evil.

 **Epilogue** - _Some time later_

"So this was another timeline?"

"Yes, Mr. Spender. A different one where the child was born to Dana Scully and another man, and she and Agent Mulder never found out about the Syndicate, never mind stopping your plans."

"Very good, Dr. Asbury. As I see it, if the child is born before the year 2000, no matter who his father is, Mulder does stop our plans for colonization."

"Yes sir, that's about it. The child is the key."

"Hmn. All right then. I'll be back in the morning, and be ready to send me to number fifty-seven. I think that's the one I'll use."

After the man's footsteps had died away and only the reek from his nauseating Morleys lingered, Dr. Lana Asbury tapped a key on her keyboard and looked up as the tiny red light on the camera above the doorway went out. She knew that while there was no way she could stop that horrid man from going to the timeline he wanted, there _was_ something she could do to save the other timelines from his meddling. That way Dana Scully and Fox Mulder could spend their lives stopping criminals and living the lives they so richly deserved. Little did he know that in revealing his plans to her, Spender had made her choice clear. She began typing, already looking forward to meeting her heroes.

 _finis_


End file.
